Australia's Beautiful Birds of Prey

When I set off to Australia for a family holiday this summer, I was sure I would return with plenty of photographs of kangaroos and wallabies. But these creatures aren’t as easy to watch in the wild as you might think. It was just starting to get light when I saw my first wallaby hop across a track in front of me. I was on an early morning game drive through the Daintree National Park,  a spectacular rainforest in Northern Queensland. I slowed down and then, behind it in an open area of grass, I spotted another. Soon I could make out five grazing in a paddock on the edge of the forest.       I inched forward, trying to get close enough for a photo, but all except one bounded off. I approached it on foot, stepping carefully across the grass. But as soon as I got in range, it jumped away too. Wallabies are on constant alert as they graze. Their ears work independently; twitching and swiveling at every sound. They continually lift their heads up looking out for danger. I gave up and drove off. I soon joined a tarmac road. The sun had just cleared the mountain range and bathed the valley in a golden light. I noticed a bird of prey on the edge of the road ahead. Above them were more, circling in the sky and calling. As I got closer I realised it was a kite and it was feeding on carcass on the road. I drove forward slowly, stopping a short distance away. It was feeding on a very young wallaby, smaller than a rabbit and too tiny to be out of its mother’s pouch. I noticed the mother lying dead on the verge nearby. She had probably been knocked down by a car.



As my camera focussed in on the kite, I realised with a jolt that the joey was still alive. I got out of the car and rushed forward, shooing the kite off. Its ears had been torn off and when I turned it over half of its face had been eaten, including its eye. I quickly put it out of its misery. The adult female was still warm. If I had only been a few minutes earlier I might have been able to save the joey. I didn’t want there to be any further casualties, so I picked up both adult and joey and moved them to a clearing in the forest so that the kites could feed away from the dangers of the road. I opened the adult carcass with my knife. The kites would struggle to open up the tough hide by themselves. It was a bit of a gruesome start to my day. I went back to the lodge where I was staying and got out a bird guide. Australia is host to a species of kite known as a ‘whistling kite’ after the distinctive sound it makes. They are a pale buff on the head, breast and tail, with browner wings and black flight feathers. This was what I had seen.

I went for lunch at a pub called The Lion’s Den less than a mile away from the two dead wallabies. I could see a column of kites circling above the spot. I wondered if they might draw in a wedge-tailed eagle, Australia’s biggest bird of prey. This bird has a wingspan that stretches a staggering seven and a half feet. Seeing one of these would more than make up for not being able get any wallaby photographs. I set about building a hide beside the wallaby carcasses. I didn't begin until it was dark, as I didn’t want the birds of prey to see me putting it up. It was very rudimentary, made from sticks propped around some bushes with dead grasses and foliage weaved in. To fill in the gaps, I lined the inside with some of my green clothes. It was just large enough to fit me sitting on a stool with my camera bag beside me.

 



Back at the lodge I asked the manager if there were any wedge-tailed eagles in the area. I was disappointed to hear that these magnificent birds are not usually found near  rainforest. They prefer more arid conditions. But this news didn’t put me off my mission to watch and photograph the kites. The following morning I got up at 4.30am to set up my cameras. It was slightly eerie being out in the bush in the dark listening to rustling sounds and watching spider’s eyes glowing in the glare of my head torch. Just before 6am I heard a crow calling, followed by another one. I knew that if these crafty corvids began feeding on the carcasses, then birds of prey would follow. I stayed as still as possible, cramped under the sticks of my makeshift hide. At last the first crow came in to feed. Torresian crows in Australia are closer in size to our ravens and have piercing, pale blue eyes.


Soon it was joined by another. They worked as a pair: one fed and the other kept look out. They kept in contact with low calls. After a while they swapped roles. But, the one that had been feeding was a far noisier watchman than its companion. After an hour they both settled down to feed together, but took flight when a brown blur flashed by. I couldn’t see what it was as the only view I had was through my camera lens. The crows circled round before returning to the carcasses. One tore off a piece of meat and marched towards me. It buried the food in the ground and continued purposely towards the hide. I didn’t want it to break my cover so I kept as still as possible. It walked right up to the hide and began to peer in. Knowing how inquisitive corvids are, I was sure this one wouldn’t give up until it knew what was lurking beneath the sticks and leaves.



Suddenly the crow jumped back four feet, making an unexpected frog-like sound. It composed itself and walked towards me again, circling the hide twice. Unsuccessful, it mounted an aerial attack, landing on top of the hide. It was now just two feet from my head and I could hear it pulling at the leaves and branches in between crowing calls. The sound of the corvid was interrupted by an ear piercing, screeching whistle. At last, a whistling kite. I had to keep still now, but as I peered down the lens the crow deposited its droppings down my back! I consoled myself with the old adage that it was a sign of good fortune. Sure enough, my luck was in when the first kite landed. But it was short-lived: it looked directly down my lens and took off in fright. Another kite flew in. I always wait until they are settled before trying to get a photograph. And just as I started to take a few shots, the kites seemed to pour down like rain from the sky. First came the whistling kites; then smaller black kites. I tried counting them. I got to eight, then 12, then maybe 15 or more. They were all squabbling over the carcass and pulling at the wallaby flesh.



It was difficult to frame a shot of the mass of wings, beaks and talons. I almost forgot about the crow sitting above me until it called out loudly and flew directly into the middle of the fracas. As if on cue, its partner rushed into the melee ready to fight for dominance over the two carcasses, pulling at the kites’ tails and wings. It was like a pub brawl. I noticed the crows fled from the bigger whistling kites but stood their ground with the smaller black kites which were equal to them in stature.



The crows were vicious; and they seemed to relish squaring up to the birds of prey. They pushed the kites on the chest with their talons, as if to say ‘are you starting on me?’ then pecked them right on the end of their beaks as if delivering a punch to the nose. The whistling kites had the greatest command, but even they clashed between themselves. The black kites were less aggressive. The crows seemed to enjoy causing chaos and held their beaks open in excitement as they tormented the kites. These corvids had only fed half-heartedly when they had the wallabies to themselves, but now that the kites were here they fed frantically.



I left them to fight it out. As I walked away I counted 26 birds in the sky. I returned later in the day to see a number of kites and crows still circling. Sitting in a tree nearby, I noticed a huge bird. It was so big it dwarfed the kites nearby. I got my binoculars out. Sure enough it was a wedge tailed eagle. So they do live round here after all!



I was in the hide at 5am the following morning. Just after 6am some whistling kites came in followed by black kites. At 7am the atmosphere changed. Fifteen or so kites were feeding and all of a sudden they all looked skyward, then scattered in all directions. I was pretty certain that the eagle I had seen the evening before was back. I waited patiently. I knew it would check the coast was clear first. For nearly 20 minutes no more birds flew in. Then the odd one returned for a few minutes before looking into the sky and quickly taking flight again.

I heard a truck on the gravel road 100 metres away. A man wearing a high-vis jacket got out and began to spray the roadside, then drove off. Shortly afterwards a lorry full of stone arrived and tipped up on the side of the road, followed by another and another. Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, diggers, graders, impact rollers that made the ground shake, all arrived. So much for the luck of the bird poo! This was my last day in Australia and there was little chance of the eagle coming back with this racket going on and so, regretfully, after 10 hours in the hide I left. I had the privilege of seeing a wedge-tailed eagle, even if I had no photographs to show for it, and I had some fantastic shots of whistling and black kites.